A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain

'You know our conditions, Emperor Mollari. Do not talk to me again unless you are willing to agree to them.' The screen went blank and Londo let out a great roar of anger and fury. He staggered away from it and hurled the diplomatic pouch into the far corner of the room. Moving swiftly, a shadow emerging from the darkness, Lennier stepped into view and caught it effortlessly.

Londo frequently forgot his bodyguard was there. Lennier was developing a habit of not being noticed.

'You heard all that?' Lennier nodded. 'Once word gets out, and it will.... it may not be.... safe for you to be here. Perhaps you should go back to Kazomi Seven. I will have to expel all Alliance personnel from our space anyway. I can do no less in view of their actions. I would rather you left.... voluntarily.'

Slowly, silently, Lennier removed his sunburst badge and laid it on a table. 'I am your bodyguard,' he said with absolute conviction. 'I would not be doing my duty if I abandoned you in a moment of difficulty.'

'Then you believe me? I swear I did not do what they think I did.'

'I believe you.'

Londo smiled. 'I thank the Maker someone does! When is Marrago due back from Tolonius? I would not be surprised if you were present when he contacted me.'

'I believe he said.... before nineteen hundred hours tonight. He was going to be leaving your nephew in charge of the area and returning here to provide a full briefing.'

'Good. I will have to contact him and let him know I am calling a full meeting of the Government. I do not like the way this is developing. Someone.... someone is playing a very large trick on us, and when I find out who....'

Londo suddenly stopped, and looked at his companion. 'Do you know, I have not heard you speak so much in months?'

Lennier smiled and bowed his head. Londo laughed, but it was one laugh, and no more.

* * *

Trace was not sure of the exact moment he realised everything was truly over, the instant he discovered at last that his mysterious patron had his own agenda. It did not really matter. He had risen this far not through the efforts of others, but by his own will.

'There is one thing that makes us winners,' he said slowly. 'It isn't talent. It isn't strength, or intelligence, or guts. It's the willpower to do what the other guys won't.'

He was not sure exactly who he was speaking to. There was no one here who was not dead or unconscious. The crowd had fled as soon as news had come of the attack. How it had got here Trace did not know, but he was willing to believe in primaeval instincts of survival. He had always trusted his instincts.

Plus, of course, everyone had fled to escape from the place where Delenn had died. Their guilt and horror had been clear in all their eyes, even the eyes of people Trace had thought he could have trusted. They had come here hoping to execute an alien freak war criminal and murderess and instead they had found.... something else.

Trace looked at Delenn's still body. There was.... peace there. Her dying expression had been one of acceptance. He chuckled. She could be as peaceful and accepting as she liked. She was still dead. He spat on her and walked slowly over to the far wall, leaning against it, arms folded.

People didn't understand. They just didn't understand anything. People were stupid, that was their problem. They saw what they wanted to see, and when they were confronted with the truth their minds became a little.... dazed. They had always thought of Delenn as one thing, but then they had seen her as something else, and they weren't sure which was true. The attack had distracted them from thinking about this, but in the next few days a consensus of sorts would be reached. Delenn would either be a murderous war criminal justly killed by a righteous population or a near–saint murdered by callous, unfeeling monsters.

Trace chuckled again. The final decision would be reached by following the lead from above, and for these people, that meant him. Assuming he survived all this, and he had every confidence in Earthforce's ships, he would ensure which judgement prevailed.

It wasn't as if he even cared about Delenn one way or the other. She was a political tool of the leaders, and a woman mildly pretty in an alien sort of way, and that was that. He had only got involved with this to prove a point, to justify his own beliefs about humanity.

Oh, yes.... and for one other reason.

He looked over at Smith. He was still out. Trace really hoped he would wake up soon. Smith had interfered in his business, broken into his property, killed Nelson. Now Nelson had been a true friend. He would never have run away to some antiquated shelter to hide from the sky, like these idiots Trace had working for him these days.

But more than that, Smith believed there was something good and selfless in humanity. Trace had just proven him wrong, and himself right, and if there was one thing Mr. Trace wanted, it was always to be right.

Smith moved and coughed, turning over. He had taken a nasty blow to the head, painful yes, but nowhere near fatal.

Yet. Trace moved forward and waited until Smith raised himself to his knees. His foot came down hard on Smith's back. Smith fell and rolled over, looking up with gummed–up eyes, seeing through a maze of stars and dots and memories.

'Howdy,' said Trace. 'I think we have some unfinished business.'

* * *

You are a fool.

This is not the time for this.

No, this is the time.

The flames were licking around him, scalding his skin, blackening and burning his soul. Marrain could feel himself burning, hear his own dying screams, remember the sheer.... relief.

It was over. Thank everything that moved and breathed, it was over!

But it wasn't. He would burn forever. He was still burning now, a thousand years on. He was still burning.

They murdered innocents! The Yolu would not support us, it was true. And why? Did you think about that? Did they think about that?

The Yolu are cowards!

No! They are afraid. Fear and cowardice are not the same. I am afraid. Every single day, I am afraid. There is no shame in fear.

You are not a warrior.

The warrior's code. We fear only failure. That was the code. Marrain had felt fear, and not of failure. He had never feared death, never once, but at the end, as the flames of his own creation consumed him, he had feared life.

The Yolu are not as powerful as we are. They are not as strong, they have less military might. And no, they are not as brave as we are. They are not to be hated for that. They are not to be reviled! Do you not see, Marrain? For what do we fight, if not to protect those who cannot protect themselves? What is the point of the strong, if they do not protect the weak? We should defend the Yolu, not attack them.

Zarwin did not understand that.

And do you? If you do.... then this will all have been worthwhile. He will understand in time, whether today, or in a thousand years. But do you understand today, Marrain?

There had been a moment.... one single moment's pause, when something had touched him, something had touched his mind, some hint of.... comprehension.

But it was there for only a moment, and then it was gone, and all the old ways returned.

He had seen his eyes reflected in Valen's own, and there had been a great darkness in them. As a child, he had once dreamed about being pursued by a horrible monster, a creature so much taller and stronger than him. The instant before he woke he had looked into that monster's eyes.... and now he saw that sight again, an adult, not a child. He saw his own eyes, reflected in those of a friend, a mentor, a leader.... a friend.

No. I do not understand.

And Valen had turned away.

The flames died, and Marrain sank to the floor. A dull, echoing noise ceased, and he realised it had been his own laughter. He looked up, and thought for a moment he saw Zarwin, across the ages, but then he realised it was Vhixarion.